


A Last Minute, Very Late, Possibly Permanent Sleepover

by srm14250



Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Banter, Canon Compliant, Gen, Homophobia, I love my boys, Period-Typical Homophobia, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris Are Best Friends, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier and Mike Wheeler Are Cousins, Richie Tozier is Bad at Feelings, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Runaway Richie Tozier, Stanley Uris is a Good Friend, Stranger Things (TV 2016) References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-11-25 17:54:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20916155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/srm14250/pseuds/srm14250
Summary: There, in the yard, stood a figure staring back at him. At first, it seemed to be entirely black, just a silhouette of darkness just barely visible in the moonlight. Stan held is breath, somehow thinking that if he was quiet it wouldn’t notice him. Then the figure started waving, and Stan noticed the slight glimmer of light from a pair of familiar glasses reflecting the moonlight back at him. Stan let out a sigh of relief, but that relief was quickly replaced with annoyance.Why the hell was Richie throwing rocks at his window at three in the morning?ORRichie is sure his parents know he's gay. So, to avoid being kicked out, he took the initiative to run away.





	1. Chapter 1

_ Bang. _

Stan glanced over at his clock. It was 3:14 in the morning. He closed his eyes again.

_ Bang Bang. _

The sound was back, he hadn’t imagined it. He grabbed his pillow and pulled it over his ears.

_ Bang Bang. _

This was getting annoying. Where was this coming from? He sat up, looking around.

_ Bang. _

A rock hit his window, and so solved the mystery of the annoying sound. Stan pulled off the blankets to see what or who the hell was throwing or dropping rocks on his window. He swung his legs over the bed, but right before his feet hit the floor he had the sudden fear kick in: What if it was It?

Stan’s heart started pounding. He thought they got rid of It three summers ago. Didn’t Ben say It only came back every twenty-seven years? So why was it suddenly here? Should he ignore it? Should he run away? What if he was still dreaming? What should he do? All the while the sounds continued, each rock that landed on the window felt like pounding in his head. His eyes darted around, trying to get a look as to what was happening, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, just those damn rocks hitting the window.

He was losing it. Even if it was It, sitting and waiting was killing him. For better or worse, Stan was going to find out what was going on. Slowly, carefully, his feet hit the floor one by one. His weight slowly shifted, and as quietly as he could he stood up. One step at a time, he made his way to the window, his heart pounding louder in his chest with every inch he took closer. Eventually he was peering through his blinds to the outside world. There, in the yard, stood a figure staring back at him. At first, it seemed to be entirely black, just a silhouette of darkness just barely visible in the moonlight. Stan held is breath, somehow thinking that if he was quiet it wouldn’t notice him. Then the figure started waving, and Stan noticed the slight glimmer of light from a pair of familiar glasses reflecting the moonlight back at him. Stan let out a sigh of relief, but that relief was quickly replaced with annoyance.

Why the  _ hell _ was Richie throwing rocks at his window at three in the morning?

Stan turned on the light and made his way downstairs, still trying to be quiet but this time fearing the rage of his parents rather than the rage of a killer clown. He made his way downstairs, being sure to step on the edges of each board to avoid causing the old wood to creak under his weight. With enough patience, he was at the front door, and opened it. The cool night air swirled around him, as he saw his friend with a duffle bag slung around his shoulder come towards him.

Richie pushed past him and went inside. “Jesus, took you long enough. I was running out of rocks.”

“You gave me a damn  _ heart attack, _ Richie. Sorry for not being more accommodating at  _ three in the morning. _ ”

“You should be sorry,” Richie said, throwing his bag down by the door. “This bitch is  _ heavy, _ and it’s fucking cold outside!”

“Hey, not so loud!” Stan whispered. “My parents are asleep.”

Richie mouthed the word sorry before kicking his shoes off.

“Okay, want to tell me what the  _ fuck  _ is going on?”

Richie frowned. “I just… can’t be around them right now.”

“Around who?”

Richie turned away, silent.

“Richie-”

“My parents, alright?” Stan had to remind him to keep his voice down before he continued. “I’m pretty sure they were about to kick me out of the house, so I took the initiative to run away,” he explained, pretending to act nonchalant when Stan knew him well enough to know he was terrified.

“What do you mean? Why would they kick you out?”

“Oh come  _ on,  _ you know why. Are you really going to make me say it?”

Stan  _ did _ know why. He had been best friends with Richie since before he could remember. He knew Richie better than he knew himself. Stan always figured Richie’s parents would figure out one day, if not Richie would feel suffocated enough to tell them himself, but he didn’t expect that day to come so soon. Eddie didn’t even know, how the hell did Richie’s parents know before him?

“My mom went through my room. My journal is missing. You putting the dots together? It’s only a matter of time before she tells my dad, if she didn’t already, and they’re sure to want me gone.”

“You don’t know that,” Stan tried to reason, but deep down he knew what Richie was saying was likely. “Maybe she just put it somewhere weird, but didn’t read it.”

Richie groaned. “You know my mom, she’s nosy. She’s been giving me weird looks recently. She knows, I can tell. She  _ hates _ me, she’s gonna-”

“Calm down,” Stan said, putting his hands on Richie’s shoulders. “You’re jumping to conclusions. How do you know they’ll kick you out?”

Richie brushed him off. “Come on, man. You know they as well as I do. My mom doesn’t even  _ talk  _ to her sister because my cousin is  _ friends  _ with a gay kid. She hates me. I’m screwed.”

Stan honestly didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know how to make his friend feel better. He didn’t know how to fix the situation himself, and he didn’t know who he could turn to for help. If he told his parents what was going on, would they be understanding, or would they hate Richie just as much as his own parents do? Or would they just be annoyed at being woken up so late? Where was Richie supposed to go? Of course he could stay at Stan’s house for a little while, but what would happen if Richie’s parents reported him missing?

“So, what’s the plan, Stan?” Richie said, somehow managing to crack a smile.

Stan wished he had an answer. Richie always relied on him to have an answer, to know what to do. “I don’t know, Richie. I… I honestly don’t.”

Richie’s face fell. “But, can I at least stay the night here?”

Stan glanced upstairs, where he knew his parents were sleeping. They’d probably be angry in the morning to find out Richie stayed the night without their permission, but Stan was absolutely willing to pay that price. After all, Stan being grounded was an infinitely better outcome than Richie being homeless.

“Of course,” he said.

Richie smiled. “Thanks, Stan the Man.”

He walked diligently to the hall closet. Richie had spent enough nights in the Uris’s house to know exactly where the extra sheets were kept. “Hey, by the way,” he said, arms full of blankets and pillows. “Do you have any food?”

Richie always did get hungry when he was nervous.

“You know where it is,” Stan sighed. “Try not to be super loud though, or my dad will probably think someone broke in.”

Richie laughed nervously. “Yeah, that’s a fair point,” Richie said placing everything down on one of the two couches in the living room.

Stan smiled, grabbed another set of sheets, and began setting up the other couch.

“What are you doing?” Richie asked.

“I’m not going to just leave you alone down here,” Stan replied. 

As much as Richie could try to pretend he was fine, Stan knew he was hurt. Richie needed more than just a place to stay. He needed a friend. Even if he didn’t want to talk about it, Stan was determined to be there in case he did.

Richie smiled, setting up his own bed. Even if he wouldn’t say it, Stan knew he appreciated it. The two boys took their place on their respective couches. Richie was asleep in seconds, as Stan figured it must have been a long night for him. Stan stayed awake for awhile, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of what explanation he would give to his parents the next morning. Before he could think of a solution, his eyelids grew heavy, and he drifted off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

“Stanley?”

Stan awoke to the sound of his mother’s voice, sounding half angry, half confused. He grogally rubbed and opened his eyes to see his mother standing at the foot of the stairs.

“Good morning,” he said, almost forgetting the situation he and his friend were in.

“I know it’s not a school night but you still have to tell us when you have people stay over,” she scolded.

Stan sat up abruptly, remembering everything about the night before in an instant.

“When did he even _ get _ here?” she questioned, gesturing at Richie who was still asleep.

“Late,” Stan answered, trying to quickly think of an excuse. “It was an emergency.”

His mother’s expression changed from anger to worry. “What kind of emergency?”

“Um…”

Richie awoke just in time, and had a response ready. “My nana’s sick,” he said suddenly. “My parents had to meet her at the hospital, but they didn’t want me to be alone so they dropped me off here.”

“Is this true, Stan?”

Stan nodded.

There was a period of silence where the two boys waited to see if she would believe their lie. She seemed to be glaring at them, and they felt her icy stare to their core.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, rushing over to give Richie a hug. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this, honey. I hope your grandmother gets better soon.”

Stan let out a sigh of relief. Lying did always come naturally to Richie. Of course, Stan always knew when he was lying, but adults never seemed to share the same gift.

“Sorry for not telling you last night, Mrs. Uris,” Richie continued. “It was really late, and we didn’t want to wake you.”

Bullshitting always was Richie’s greatest talent.

“Well, I was going to run to the store. Stan, do you need anything?”

“No, I’m good.”

“Alright, I’ll be back soon.” 

She gave him a wave and went on her way. He sat up to look out the window, and watched her car pull out of the driveway and drive down the road. When Stan was sure she was gone, he turned back to Richie.

“I think we should tell them,” he said.

Richie stared at him in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right? Are you insane?”

“It feels wrong lying to them. And what happens when your parents start trying to find you? We’re the first people they’ll call, and then what do we do?”

Richie shook his head. “I can’t just… tell them. You’re the only one I’ve ever actually told, and even then it was _ not _on purpose.”

Stan suddenly felt a little guilty. It was never actually Richie’s choice to tell him, Stan was just able to pick up on it. Did he do the right thing those years ago when he found out? Should he have pretended not to notice, and let Richie tell him when he was ready? But that didn’t matter now. Stan was tired of worrying about hypotheticals. The best he could do was worry about what was actually happening now. “So, how much do you want to tell them?”

Richie buried his face in his hands, his glasses nested between his fingers. “I don’t know,” he said, his voice breaking. “What _ can _ we tell them?”

We. Richie said we. For better or worse, they were in this together. “What if we explain that you don’t feel safe in your house anymore?” he proposed, “We don’t have to tell them why, at least not yet, but it’s at least being honest with them.”

Richie didn’t respond, he just kept his face buried in his hands, slightly shaking.

“And,” Stan continued. “No matter what, I’m sticking with you.”

He looked up. Without his glasses, Stan could clearly see his friend’s eyes, and saw something he had never seen before. Richie was scared, of course he was. There was no way he couldn’t have been, but there was more there: fear, sincerity, uncertainty, humility, but most of all, gratitude.

“It’s all going to be okay,” Stan said, sounding more confident than he was, hoping desperately that Richie didn’t notice.

“You’re talking out of your ass, aren’t you?”

Stan smiled. “Maybe a little,” he admitted.

Richie smiled back, and it was the first time in twenty-four hours that Stan thought that he actually made Richie feel a little better. But that, of course, was short lived.

The phone started ringing. Stan and Richie looked at each other, worry in their eyes because they both knew who was calling. Stan carefully lifted the phone to his ear. 

“Hello?” he said, trying his absolute hardest to sound casual and natural.

“Hi, is that Stan?” he heard from the other end.

Stan glanced back at Richie, who was listening carefully. He gave him a look as if to verify that it was, in fact, who he thought it was.

“Yeah,” he managed to respond.

“This is Mrs. Toizer. Is Richie there by any chance?”

Richie shook his head, and gestured with his hands for Stan to say no.

“No, he’s not here,” Stan said, earning a thumbs up from his friend. “Why, is everything okay?”

“Yes, everything is fine,” she said, sounding exactly like she always had, only a small amount of concern in her voice, but mostly annoyance from a wasted phone call. “He’s probably at Eddie’s or something. Just call us back if you hear from him, okay?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, goodbye Stan.”

“Goodbye, Mrs. Toizer.”

He hung up the phone and let out a deep sigh of relief. Unlike Richie, Stan really did not like lying to adults.

“She’s going to find out eventually,” he said, starting to collect the blankets and sheets from the couch.

Richie sighed. “I know, I know.” He started to collect the bedding from his own couch. “But she doesn’t have to know today.”

“What if she reports you missing? What do we do then?”

“She’s not going to do that.”

“She might! She’s looking for you. After she calls each of the losers, where do you think she’s going to turn? Especially after Betty, and Georgie, and-”

“I _ told _ you, she’s not going to report me missing. She hates me, she doesn’t _ want _ to find me.”

“Richie, I…” Stan regretted getting angry with him. It wasn’t fair, he didn’t deserve it. In fact, he didn’t deserve any of this. What he _ did _ deserve was parents who loved him. But he might never get that again.

“Richie, is that you?” said a voice from upstairs.

Stan froze. He had almost completely forgotten his dad was still home.

“Hi, Mr. Uris!” Richie called instinctively.

“Do your parents know you’re here?”

“Um, yes?”

More lying.

“Try to keep it down, alright?”

More believing.

“When my mom comes back,” Stan said sternly. “We’re going to be honest with them.”

“But-”

“I’m serious,” he asserted.

Richie nodded, and the two of them waited to see a familiar car pull in the driveway.


	3. Chapter 3

Stan’s heart started pounding when his mother came through the front door, hands full of groceries. In fact, his heart was beating so fast and so loud that he half expected her to hear it, and question why he seemed so nervous. He imagined that Richie’s heart must have been beating just as fast, and just as loud, if not louder, but his face somehow remained calm. Stan instinctively got to his feet to help his mother put away everything. Richie started helping too, perhaps in an attempt to get on Stan’s mother’s good side. 

“Thank you, Richie,” she said. Apparently it was working. “So, did your parents call?”

“Um, yeah,” Richie responded. Technically not a lie.

“How is your grandmother doing?”

“Good,” he said. Still technically not lying.

“What happened to her again? Did she fall, or-”

“She’s sick.”

Stan glared at his friend. He promised he would tell her what was really going on, and instead he was still obscuring everything, and repeating the same lie. Richie just shrugged back.

Stan sighed. “Mom, we have something to tell you.”

She stopped what she was doing and gave him her attention.

“We should,” he paused to see his friend, staring back at him with fear in his eyes. “We should tell Dad too.”

Concern grew on her face, as she saw that this was extremely serious. “Alright,” she said. “How about you boys wait down here, and I’ll go and get him.”

Stan nodded. She smiled, and made her way upstairs.

Richie tugged on Stan’s sleeve. “Let me lead this, alright?” he whispered.

“Okay,” he responded. He felt it was right to give Richie control. After all, he didn’t have any control over how he came out to his own parents, or even how he came out to Stan for that matter. Stan was determined to let his friend come out in the way that  _ he  _ wanted, at his own pace, only sharing as much as he was comfortable. Stan’s only role in this was to make sure his friend was felt safe and heard.

Stan and Richie waited in the living room. Not much time had passed before they saw both of Stan’s parents walk down the stairs, both of them seemingly ready to listen. They sat down across from them, and waited for Richie to start talking. Stan gave him a gentle smile, hoping it was enough encouragement for him to feel safe.

Richie took a deep breath, trying his best to maintain his composure. “I… I wasn’t exactly honest with you,” he started. “My nana isn’t really sick, and my parents don’t really know that I’m here.”

Stan’s dad looked like he was about to say something, but Stan stopped him before he could. “Just, let him finish, okay?” he said.

Both of his parents nodded in agreement.

“I ran away,” Richie continued, staring at the floor refusing to make eye contact with anyone. “I ran away in the middle of the night, because I don’t feel safe in that house anymore. And I thought my parents were going to kick me out, or worse, and I just had to get out.”

Stan placed his hand on Richie’s shoulder consolingly. 

“It’s just that… I think they found out something.” Richie’s voice was quiet and meek, shakey and breaking every so often. But he kept going. “They don’t know that I know, but if I go back there it won’t end well. So I’m asking you, can I stay here for a little while?”

Stan’s parents were silent, looking at each other trying to think of a response. “What did your parents find out?” asked Stan’s mother, trying to phrase her words carefully.

“You can trust them,” Stan told him.

Richie looked up at him. Stan forced himself to believe what he said, because if he didn’t he knew that Richie would see it in his eyes. No, he had to remain confident for him. Richie needed confidence.

“I…” Richie’s eyes started to grow wet. “I’m in love with Eddie Kaspbrak.”

Time seemed to slow to a stop as Stan waited nervously for his parents to react. The air felt so dense it was like he was underwater, and everything felt still. Impossibly still. The only sound was Stan’s heart, still beating impossibly loud. All he wanted was noise to drown it out. Any noise. He didn’t care anymore.  _ Anything. _

“And you think your parents would kick you out just for  _ that _ ?” Stan’s dad said in disbelief. All at once the air went back to normal, and time picked up its regular tempo.

Richie sat there, completely frozen. Stan tried his best to hide the sigh of relief he let out, trying to pretend that was the reaction he knew Richie would get. But it was better than Stan could have ever hoped.

“That’s just not right,” Stan’s mother joined in. “Richie, if you can’t go home, you’re always welcome here.”

There it was: the best case scenario. Stan felt so incredibly lucky. There were so many things that could have gone wrong during their conversation, but nothing did. Then again, Stan knew his parents well, and for as much relief as he felt there was not a large amount of surprise. After all, they both knew what it was like to be different, and they had raised Stan to be tolerant and understanding to everyone, in the hopes that they would be tolerant and understanding to him. 

“I… thank you,” was all Richie could manage to say, as he wiped his eyes clean.

“But,” she continued. Oh no. It couldn’t have been easy. “I’m going to call your mother. I’m not going to tell her why you ran away, and I’m not going to make you go home, but she should know you’re here, and safe.”

Richie shook his head. “Please don’t call her,” he whimpered.

“We have to,” said Stan’s dad. “You have to understand, for safety reasons, she needs to know where you are.”

“It’ll be okay,” Stan reassured. “I promise.”

Richie nodded, giving his permission. Stan’s mother stood up and made her way to the phone. “Just breathe, Richie,” Stan said as she started dialing the number. Richie did as he was told, taking slow deep breaths as they all waited for the other line to pick up.

The phone rang a few times before it did. “Hi, Maggie. It’s Andrea. Yes, Richie is with Stan. Of course, he’s okay. Well, you know how teenagers are. Alright, will do. Okay. Have a good day. Goodbye.” She hung up the phone.

“What did she say?” Richie couldn’t help but ask.

“Just that she was worried about you,” she answered. “And that she wants you home for dinner.”

“I can’t go back there,” he said, returning his gaze to the floor.

“Sweetie, I don’t even think she knows,” said Stan’s mother. “She sounded like nothing was out of the ordinary. Are you sure she even found out?”

“Well, not completely. I just… I’m pretty sure.”

“We’re not going to force you,” Stan’s father said. “But maybe you should talk to your parents. Just to see where everyone stands.”

“But what if… what if she hates me?”

“But what if she loves you?” Stan’s mother replied. “You won’t know unless you call.”

“And if it goes downhill,” Stan added, “you can just stay here.”

Richie sighed, and picked up the phone himself. He dialed the familiar number, and waited anxiously for his mother to pick up. “Hey, Mom. Did you um… do you know where my journal went? It’s…you didn’t…” His jaw was dropped, and his eyes almost seemed glazed over. “Oh…” he said, before hanging up the phone. Richie just stood there, unmoving.

“So?” Stan questioned.

“She… she didn’t read it,” he said, as if he couldn’t believe his own words. “She just put it in my desk, but she didn’t read it.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

Richie just started laughing. “What an idiot,” he said. “I didn’t check the  _ drawer. _ It was in the  _ drawer. _ She didn’t even  _ read _ it, she just put it  _ in _ my desk.”

“Richie, are you okay?”

“How did I forget to check the  _ drawer _ ?” he repeated, shaking a little.

“Hey,” Stan said, grabbing Richie’s shoulders and holding him steady. “It’s alright.”

Richie dropped the fake smile that was previously plastered on his face. “I guess,” he started, “I guess everything just goes back to normal now? Just, go back home and forget any of this ever happened?”

“You don’t have to pretend nothing ever happened,” Stan’s father said. “If you want to still stay here, that’s fine.” 

Stan and his mother nodded in agreement.

Richie took off his glasses to clean the fog that had gathered on them. “Thank you,” he said as he fiddled with them, before placing his glasses back on his face. “You’re so kind.”

Stan couldn’t remember the last time Richie had been that serious. Even in the worst situations, he somehow was always able to crack a joke. Or maybe it was the opposite, maybe he couldn’t help but hide his pain or fear behind a smokescreen of humor. But in that moment, he was being so genuine, so honest, so open, in a situation that was so incredibly difficult. And thankfully, it was paying off.

“I think I’ll just stay here a little while longer,” Richie said. “Just until I calm myself down.”

“Of course,” Stan’s father replied. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you need.”

Suddenly, they all heard frantic knocking on the front door. Stan stood up to answer it, and opened the door to see Eddie standing on the porch. He was sweaty and panting, inhaler in hand and his bike knocked over in the middle of the front yard. “Stan! Richie’s missing! His mom called, and none of the others have seen him, and-”

He stopped when he saw Richie sitting there, with both of Stan’s parents, eyes still stained red from his previous tears. “Hey, Edds.”

“What…the  _ fuck _ .”


	4. Chapter 4

“What…the  _ fuck _ .” Eddie said, still panting from his frantic bike ride to Stan’s house.

“Language,” Stan’s father responded.

“Sorry, Mr. Uris. But seriously, what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t really go missing,” Richie said, adjusting his glasses. Stan knew that he was only fiddling with them to try and hide the fact that he was crying. He also knew that Eddie could definitely see straight through it.

Eddie walked inside, and took a seat next to him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just um…” Richie began twisting his hair with his hand, purposely blocking Eddie’s view of his eyes. “I had a scare.”

Eddie grabbed his hand, forcing Richie to finally look at him. The two locked eyes, and Eddie’s expression changed from curiosity and confusion to concern. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Richie said, knowing full well that everyone in the room knew he was lying. “Really, it’s fine.”

“We’ll leave you alone to talk,” Stan’s mother said awkwardly, as she and her husband stood up to leave.

“Do you want me to go, too?” Stan asked.

“What? No, there’s nothing to talk about. No one has to leave.”

“Richie…” Eddie was still holding his hand. The two looked completely inseparable, as if their hands were always meant to be fused together. So much was unsaid between them, but through years of observing Stan had learned to understand what their interactions meant. As much as Richie worried that Eddie didn’t feel the same way, Stan knew the truth.

“You don’t have to lie about what you’re feeling,” Stan offered. “We’re your friends, we understand.”

“But everything  _ is _ okay, Stan. Remember? It was all just a false alarm. Everything goes back to normal now.”

“What false alarm?” Eddie asked, oblivious.

“I um…” Richie started. “I thought I saw It again.”

“Richie!” Stan scolded. It wasn’t right for him to bring that up as an excuse. It wasn’t fair to anyone. This wasn’t just a small white lie, or a way to avoid the question. This lie was damaging. 

Eddie’s eyes grew with panic, and his breathing became erratic. “What do you mean? I thought It only comes back every twenty-seven years. How can It be back  _ already _ ?”

“It’s not!” Richie answered. “Like I said, it was just a false alarm. Everything is fine.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie said, after using his inhaler.

“ _ Yes, _ everything is completely fine. We don’t need to talk about it.  _ Everything _ is _ fine _ .”

Stan hoped that Eddie could tell Richie was lying. He could see that, couldn’t he? It was pretty obvious that nothing Richie said was true. Clearly he wasn’t okay, and clearly there were things that needed to be talked about. 

Instead of saying anything, Eddie simply gave Richie a hug. At first he didn’t move, almost as if he didn’t notice, but slowly he moved his arms up, and wrapped them around him. He pulled him in close, and buried his head into his shoulder. The two of them stayed that way for a long time, and Stan felt almost intrusive for watching them. He awkwardly looked around the room, trying to find something that could grab his attention. Or at least something he could pretend grabbed his attention, in an attempt to give his friends some amount of privacy. He noticed one of the pictures his parents had framed on the wall. It had been there as long as Stan could remember, and was likely displayed long before he was born, from his parents’ wedding day. They were hugging each other, just like Eddie and Richie had been, as if the photographer was not there. As if no one was there. Eddie and Richie understood each other so well, words seemed more like an afterthought to them rather than the primary means of communication. Neither of them ever told the other how they were feeling, and yet they somehow always just knew. For a moment Stan wondered if he could ever have someone like that in his life. Even if he was alone, Stan was so glad that his friends had each other.

“Stan?” Richie called.

He realized they had been trying to get his attention.

“Huh? Sorry, I was...” Stan responded, snapping back to reality. “Thinking about something.”

“Eddie and I are gonna head to the arcade,” Richie said, standing up. “Do you want to come?”

Stan shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay. You two go ahead.” Stan couldn’t understand Richie quite as well as Eddie could, but he understood him well enough to know that his invitation was more of a formality than anything else. Stan had been third-wheeling enough this morning, it was time for Eddie and Richie to be alone.

Richie smiled at him, as if to say “Thank you,” and walked out the door with Eddie following close behind. They seemed to walk completely in sync.

Stan watched them through the window as they left. Eddie picked up his bike and started walking forward with it. Richie pushed him aside and climbed on the bike himself, riding in circles as Eddie chased him. Eddie was yelling something at him, but Stan couldn’t hear. Richie on the other hand was smiling, this time a real smile, displaying than obscuring his true emotions. Eventually Richie slowed to a stop, and gestured Eddie to climb on. At first he shook his head, and Stan could imagine the rant about how it was “too dangerous,” but he knew that was just for show. Not much time had passed before Eddie climbed on to the back of the bike, grabbing onto Richie as to not fall off. Stan heard the mixture of screaming and laughing as Richie started moving forward, petaling faster than was probably a good idea. The two of them disappeared out of Stan’s view, as he turned away from the window. He smiled.

All was well.


End file.
